The Abnormal (Un)Life of a Graphic Designer
by Kiwi-kisses-are-sour
Summary: We've all experienced the story through {…}'s eyes (him being the dashing narrator of the webcomic), but what if we were to see it through the eyes of our dear Mr Achenleck? Will change POV but will mostly be set in Conrad's. (I suck at summaries...)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, this is my first attempt at a HiNaBN fan-fic so please review and help me improve. I was a huge fan of HiNaBN and was just as devastated as I think most of us were when the last post came on that fateful Valentine's day and remained the last. Many a day, week, and even month were spent double checking to make sure I hadn't missed an update and I have since been placating my inner nerd by reading fan fiction, especially those by the ever talented Desdemona Kakalose. However, I noticed that even my secondary source of HiNaBN fan-girl hits was dying a death, so I decided to try and save it by giving a pop at the writing myself. Hopefully I've done okay.**

**About: We've all experienced the story through {…}'s eyes (him being the dashing narrator of the webcomic), but what I wanted to try was seeing it through Hanna and Conrad's eyes? After all, I feel these two must have an awful lot to say. This will initially kinda-sorta-maybe follow the original story of HiNaBN, but will stray when the story started to die off.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story. All of them belong to the talented Tessa Stone, who, despite my initial grump at the lack of further updates, I would like to thank for giving us at least the beginnings of an excellent story.**

**Enjoy! **

**(* The word 'taps' in the 3****rd**** paragraph refers to faucets. It's just the British term, which I felt more fitting for Conrad's POV. I will try to keep the spelling and word choice nationality specific, but being British myself I can't promise much)**

_In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on. –Robert Frost_

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, …

Conrad sighed for what felt like the millionth time (but which he knew to only be the fourth). Pausing from his counting of the ceiling's population of spit balls, he looked at his watch. Quarter past two. _Sigh_. His client was meant to be here fifteen minutes ago.

Leaning forward, he rested his hand on the table in front of him before panicking at the stickiness of the surface and retracting once more. He shuddered to think of sheer volume of nasty bacteria he assumed must be lurking, unseen, on the surface. Cradling his arm as though it was wounded he looked towards the establishments bathrooms and wondered whether it would be worth going to wash his hands, ultimately deciding that no, it would not. Not only would the heads of the taps* and the soap be covered in an assortment of microorganisms but the door handles most likely had urine, or worse, on them from those scruffy individuals who had decided hand-washing was below them. The thought made him feel faint and he found himself, yet again, looking at his watch.

"I'll give him five more minutes, then I'm calling him." he muttered to himself, pulling his portfolio closer as though to assure himself it was still there. This was the last time he was letting a client choose the meeting place he thought haughtily, as he looked around the dingy café. He was an artist after all and so was not accustomed to such dingy hell hole. Something in the back of his mind argued that his point didn't exactly make sense, but he effectively ignored that with a huffy sniff.

This was how many of his days had been spent since moving to the US, all those years ago. He had been promised that there was a larger market for graphic designers here, this being a country of mass consumerism, and this promise had not been wrong. However, he couldn't help but feel that the American attitude to business was somewhat peculiar. For one, Americans tended to be extraordinarily enthusiastic, which was scary in itself for an introvert like Mr Achenleck, but with that came a reduced sense of formality and, unfortunately, punctuality. Americans were always in a rush; except when you were.

Still, he couldn't complain. Working from home had always been a dream of his and for the most part he hardly ever had to actually meet a client face-to-face, except in situations like this where Mr Nelson had insisted; stating that he preferred to look a man in the eye while they talked (Conrad got the vague sense that he was dealing with a technophobe).

Looking down, he noted that Mr Nelson's 5 minutes were up. Frowning determinedly, he tugged his pocket's button open (one could never be too careful) and pulled out his phone.

"Hello, Mr Nelson?" He said, proud of his business like tone, "it's Conrad Achenleck, the graphic designer. I just wondered if you had forgotten about our appointment... Ah, right, I see. No, that's fine, another time then. Thank you, bye." Taking off his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose to fight off a forming migraine. _Bloody marvellous_, he thought to himself, _and he didn't think of telling me he was 'otherwise engaged'?_ Huffing, he packed up his belongings, brought his empty mug over to the counter (he knew he didn't have to, but it was only polite), and left.

He fumed silently as he walked home, stopping only to glare at a homeless woman who shook her cup at him, before feeling slightly guilty and running back to give her some change. As he stormed through the streets of Sarasota, he mused quietly about how rubbish his day had been. Not only was he now out of his home, his safe zone, for no reason, he also had to disinfect his hand and clothing. On top of all that there was the black cat that had crossed his path in the morning, and that crazy woman who had followed him around for _ten whole minutes_ ranting about how misfortune was upon him and that he should avoid rodents.

This day could not get any worse, he mused as he opened his front door, barely registering the muffled squeak from the corner of the room. He did, however, react when an arrogant voice said "And who might you be?"

Looking around the room in terror, his eyes eventually landed on a small purple bat. Shaking his head at the silly idea that a bat could talk he began to make shooing motions towards it. That was until the voice spoke again "Eek, how rude!"

There was no mistaking it, no matter how hard he tried to believe otherwise, Conrad had come across a talking bat. As he stared in shock only one thought crossed his mind:

_Bats aren't rodents!_

**Well, there you have it; Chapter 1. It's set just slightly before the beginnings of the webcomic, so I hope I can't have messed it up too much. Also I couldn't find out where the story was set so I looked up the art college Conrad went to (Ringling College of Art and Design) which is in Sarasota, Florida, so I went with that. If you know where it is actually set (as in, not just a place another fan fic was set but rather where Ms Stone intended it to be set) do tell.**

**Please comment, rate, and review. (I'll give you cookies! Bat shaped ones!)**

**xKiwi**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so here goes. Chapter numero two. I had some issues finding the webcomic for reference, as it would seem my anti-virus disapproves of it heavily, but I was able to mostly find the pages through google and deviantart.**

**The dialogues in this chapter are nearly all from the webcomic, but with Hanna's thoughts and feelings added (or what I think and feel his thoughts and feelings would be).**

_Life is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans. – Allen Saunders_

Hanna's POV

_Knock knock knock knock bang._

Hanna looked away from his green companion towards where it sounded like someone was trying to knock his door down. "Falk? You in there? Ya got someone lookin' for ya." _Shit, I know that voice…._ Hanna felt a tick forming on his face as he stared in abject terror towards the door.

"Mrs. Blaney?!" He asked, hoping against all hope that he was wrong. Hanna had no desire to face his landlady today.

"The one and only." _Well damn, there went that hope._ "Open up, Falk. This little morsel can't seem to keep his hands off me…" And indignant squawk followed that last remark, reminding Hanna of the reason his accursed landlady was there.

"Falk is… you?" Asked Gabriel, glancing towards the door. If he understood the horror of who was behind said door, he didn't show it. _Then again, _Hanna mused, _his face might be stuck like that…_

"Err, yes. My, um, middle name…" He muttered uncomfortably, shuffling towards the door. "Coming!" Taking a deep breath, Hanna opened the door and attempted to rearrange his face into a pleasant smile. He was vaguely aware of Mrs. Blaney saying something mildly inappropriate but found himself distracted by the poor soul she was dragging behind her. Hanna wasn't sure what to think of the bloodied and bruised character before him. The clothes he was wearing looked expensive and he didn't look like the sort to get into fights, and yet here he was; bleeding on the stained carpet with the most beautiful black eye* Hanna had ever seen.

"Uhh. Thanks Mrs. Blaney" He mumbled when he became aware of the silence, thankful that the terrifyingly hateful glare of the battered man was not being directed at himself. _The guy sure can glare._

After a brief conversation, _if it can be called that_, between Mrs. Blaney and the man, in which Mrs. Blaney made many inappropriate comments and Hanna imagined he could see what remained of the man's decidedly small amount of patience crumble away, Mrs. Blaney finally made to leave. By this point the man was practically having a hissy fit in Hanna's living room/kitchen/bedroom/study. As the man began muttering to himself Hanna guiltily twiddled his thumbs. Why he felt guilty he didn't know, it wasn't as if he could control the horror that was Mrs. Blaney, but he still felt bad that another human being had had to experience her on his behalf.

"Errr, sorry." He supplied feebly, putting on his best puppy dog expression.

"I'd almost rather be back with the _vampires_." It was an offhand comment, and for a second Hanna was sure he had misheard, but when that feeling had passed a look of such utter delight passed over his face that those observing would later swear he even glowed.

"Vampires! Are they still here?!" After that, Hanna was a flurry of excitement as he asked question after question. To say his client was startled would be an understatement; the man looked positively terrified. Of course, meeting Gabriel probably didn't help, but he had seemed to recover quickly; _like, only the occasional glance_.

As the man described the vampire, however, Hanna began to have his doubts. Small, round, furry… Hanna could only think of one thing that fit the description:

"Are you sure you weren't attacked by an angry kitten? It's uh… a common mixup."

"He was in bat form!"

_A bat!? _Hanna was no expert, but he knew what a vampire bat looked like and they were not nearly as scary as the human form. It was the form they took when they wanted to hide, after all. Before he could help himself, Hanna laughed.

"Are you laughing?!"

"No… hehe"

"Sure. Whatever. So you gonna help me or not?"

"Well, our prices start at a flat fee of…"

"I don't care how much it costs." The dejected slump of the man's shoulders served to support this. He looked like the dictionary definition of desperate*.

"Sweetest thing a man has ever said to me!" Hanna gave a 200 Watt grin before darting around the flat in a mad dash to collect his tools.

Turning to Gabriel, the client sighed. "You're his partner, right? Is this gonna be okay? He seems pretty out of it to me…"

Gabriel paused for a moment, as though contemplating his answer. "Mr. …?"

"Achenleck. Conrad Achenleck" Conrad held out his hand awkwardly, as though it was an automatic response for a handshake and not because he actually wanted one.

Gabriel simply looked down and decided to grant Conrad the kindness of not shaking his hand.

"Well then, Mr Achenleck, I don't want to lie to you. I don't know what to expect either." This stark honesty did nothing to assure Conrad, who had started chewing on his lip. However, Hanna, who had overheard this exchange, decided to try put the man at ease.

"Don't worry Conrad my man, It's gonna be awesome!"

**Chapter 2, finished.**

***I wonder if 'the most beautiful black eye' seemed odd to non-British readers. In parts of the UK we refer to a black eye as a 'shiner' and people will often compliment you on the 'beauty' of any black eye you have had the misfortune of acquiring. The more painful/dark looking, the more beautiful :P (A bit mean, no?)**

***In case you were wondering, here's the dictionary definition of desperate: feeling or showing a hopeless sense that a situation is so bad as to be impossible to deal with. Antonym(s): Conrad Achenleck (Okay, I made that bit up)**

**Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to update pretty regularly, but I have exams and lab reports due at uni soon so I won't have a lot of free time for the next month (even over Christmas T.T), sorry.**

**Please review, it would really help me. I'll even give you some brownies! (I suck at baking cookies).**

**Cheers m'dears. **

**Kiwi xx**


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